


Scarred

by LuckyKeylime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyKeylime/pseuds/LuckyKeylime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses control of the Mark of Cain, which ends with him killing an innocent. He returns to the bunker an emotional wreck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarred

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic! Based off a headcanon I've had for a while.

Dean splashes water on his face, then turns the tap off and rests his shaky hands back onto the sides of the sink. He stares at the clear water as it settles, a few drops that still fall from the tap occasionally breaking the surface. He stands there for a while, staring at the pool in front of him, until he realizes that the water is calm enough for him to see his own reflection and it makes him grip the sides of the sink so hard his hands turn white.

Monster.

He draws raspy breaths, doing what he always does; try to push it down, to not feel anything.

_You'll figure this out. Cas and Sammy can fix this, they always do. They always find a way to fix you._

At this thought he slams a fist down onto the porcelain, disturbing the water slightly. It hurts his hand but he doesn't care. Glancing down at his arm he can see a little bit of the mark peeking out from his rolled-up sleeve. He hated that damned thing more than anything he'd every known... More than Ruby or Crowley or his Dad or even himself, more than all of them combined. A part of him was scared to touch it, even though it was already branded into his skin he felt like the slightest movement would set it off and once again turn him into the monster that he was becoming so familiar with.

_Murderer._

"No." He lets out a growl, which startles him when he realizes it was aloud. He repeats it though, again and again louder and louder, slamming his fist down more forcefully this time before he dares to look up to his reflection in the mirror and instantly regrets his decision. He sees the rage and disgust in his eyes, and the blood that's still smeared across his cheek. He swipes at it with his hand, only managing to spread the stain further down his neck. Grabbing the bar of soap that rested on the counter he starts scrubbing his face with it, desperately trying to remove the reminder of his most recent loss of control. Drying his face with a towel he realizes there is still blood splattered across his arms, and he desperately starts scrubbing them too, going up his arm inch by inch until he reached the mark that fucking mark that had made him kill so much. Walking to his bedroom while rolling up his sleeve a bit higher, he scrubs it to the point that his whole arm is raw and there are tears in his eyes, although he doubts it's from the pain. He grabs the switchblade from his pocket and brings it to the mark, a few drops of blood rolling down to his wrist when he hears an all too-familiar rustling sound from behind him.

"Not now Cas this is a bad time." He stays facing away from the door and tries to keep his voice as steady as possible; the last thing he needed was for Cas to see him falling apart.

"Dean I know what happened and it's not your..." Cas trails off when Dean doesn't turn around. "Dean?" His eyes widen when he sees the knife. Grabbing Dean's shirt he swings him around to face him, his voice thick with urgency. "Dean what are you doing."

"Dammit Cas just leave me alone." Dean pulls away but Cas only clutches him tighter and tries to grab the knife from him, and he responds by struggling somewhat feebly; not wanting to give in but not wanting to hurt his best friend. Cas manages to hit it out of his hand and kick it away, so Dean collapses to his knees shaking and puts his head in his hands. Cas crouches in front of him and gingerly grabs his hand, prying it away from his face to examine the cut. Dean tries unsuccessfully to twist away.

"Please Cas. Don't, I don't..." But it's too late, and he can tell that Cas can see the scars on and near the mark, most of which are random and scattered and recent, but some are in tidy, faded rows down his forearm. There is a deafening silence while Cas stares at them, unmoving, and Dean can't see his face, but he can feel Cas suppressing tears and this makes him break down completely, washing away all the efforts to keep the tears at bay. Cas's grip tightens on his wrist and he starts to say something before choking up, unable to continue.

"I didn't want you to know Cas." Dean clutches the trench coat before him as he sobs. Droplets fall onto his lap and onto Cas's hands, still holding onto his arm. "I didn't... I didn't want you to know how broken I am."

The grip on his arm lessens slightly as Cas leans in and plants a kiss on his scars before whispering;

"I don't care that you're broken Dean. I'd have you.... Broken or not."


End file.
